Spotless
by DaisyofGalaxy
Summary: John Smith has one aim when he decides to again enrol his alma mater. He wants to regain memories a tragic accident stole from him. Will however life among students young enough to be his children an easy task? He has no clue but somehow company of Clara, a postgraduate student of History of Art makes everything better. Whouffaldi AU with hints of Doctor/River.
1. Prologue

It was a lovely autumn afternoon, not one of these rainy days the calendar in England was full of. John Smith sat in a passenger seat of a twenty year old Porsche and admired the world around him with a smile of his face. His sister who was behind the wheel didn't seem to share his enthusiasm but he didn't mind it at all.

Not so long ago, he likely wouldn't differ much from her, finding a pile of reddish leaves lying on the road only a potential cause of accident. Recent events however changed his perception of life entirely. Everyone visited this strange world only once and he decided to take out of it as much as possible, even if it meant smiling like a loon on things as irrelevant as falling leaves.

A month ago he was still in the hospital, fighting to bring some normality into his life after an almost fatal incident. He was one hell of a lucky man, it had turned out that day when his car had dived into a river in the far away Republic of Congo taking him with it. The Doctors in the army hospital hadn't given him much chance, blaming for it both time till help arrived and poor equipment the clinic owned. He had pulled it through that time. The only problem was he couldn't recall one thing that happened in the last thirty years.

His body might had returned, but his mind not. For over three month now, he was back a student of Microbiology in his early twenties, madly in love with his girlfriend and dreaming about travels to distant places. He succeeded in both these points as he found out from his sister and friends' stories. They dressed him in a red robe and allowed him to call himself a doctor one summer afternoon when he was twenty seven. Only a week later he made his promise of eternal love to River and before first winter colds visited England, they had gone on their first adventure abroad.

Ever since, he had been in over sixty countries, sharing his knowledge and kindness with those who needed it most. He also identified three new subspecies of Plasmodium, but he didn't find it particularly important. Donna, his sister had often brought to the hospital a thick photo album with photos of him and grateful locals. If it wasn't enough to convince him, there were always paintings, handmade cards wishing him health and other little gifts people were leaving for him before the clinic.

The life which as they implied belonged to him appeared to be perfect, yet it also felt like a biography you find at the back of a book - cold and odd.

'You sure you wanna do it, pal?' Donna asked him once the car halted on a parking lot in front of a huge sandstone building. 'We can try another therapist and see what they say.'

'It's fine,' John said bluntly, closing a car door behind himself. He leant back on dark blue car body and took a good glance at the monument. There was something about this place that made his entire body ache for a little sightseeing. 'I actually think it's a very good idea. I have read some papers the other day. The author was suggesting the very same thing,' he added after a moment.

Sighing heavily, Donna approached him and joined him in his gawking. She didn't seem to be as fond of this place as he was. But how could she when she knew she couldn't look after him here? 'Then I would put them both in prison. One crisis ended and they drag you into another straight away,' she continued her lament.

'And who acts like older sibling now?' He smiled. She was ten years younger than he, but yet for most occasions it was him who could learn responsibility from her. She had always been like this. It had evolved in her gradually ever since their mother died and sentenced them to stay with a father who seemed to forget that kids and army cadets were made from different clay. 'I'll be fine. My stomach may not survive all that junk food and beer, but I''ll be fine,' he chuckled.

'Don't even joke like that. They serve similar rubbish in Seth's school. We have to prepare lunch for him every morning. And no, this is not spoiling since he's allergic to almost everything.'

'I wasn't judging your parental skills-' he said lightly and moved to the car trunk to retrieve from it two large suitcases- everything he owned now.

'Good. Since the divorce I don't feel like I'm good at anything.'

'You're an amazing mum for Lilah and Seth. Mum would be proud if she could see how good care you take of them,' John whispered in spirit cursing the man who made her need his reassurance. He hated seeing her like this. It wasn't she but her husband who should feel bad, yet he didn't seem to be affected at all. One day he had simply packed his things and left. Left as if eleven years of marriage and two kids didn't mean a thing. He wondered over it quite often in the last few days. He looked in the eyes of his niece and nephew and simply couldn't understand how anyone, even slightly sensitive could act that way.

'You want me to keep you company?' She asked him brushing tears off her cheek he hadn't realized were floating until now.

'Nah. Go to your little rascals and say Uncle Johnny invites them to a party,' he blurted gesturing at the car behind her.

Without hesitation, she rose her hands and hooks them around his neck pulling him closer for a hug. 'Ashamed of your sis, then?' she breathed out into the fabric of his hoodie with a note of laughter in her voice which gave him hope she was slowly approving his idea. 'You know we're here for you?'

'I know. I'll call you later tonight,' he answered once her grip around his shoulders loosened. He started to move in direction of the building but stopped just before a sandstone arch to look at her again.

She was still in the same place she was moments earlier only this time her hands were crossed– a sign of disbelief of uncertainty that hadn't changed since they were children.

With a strange feeling of coldness growing inside him, he waved a few times, turned around and took another step in direction of his new home.


	2. Sep 5th 2015

It was a lovely autumn afternoon, Clara concluded as she sat by a kitchen table and sipped scented tea from a white porcelain cup. She carefully put it aside each time she needed to turn the page of a book she kept on the table.

She cherished that cup- one of the last gifts she received from her late grandfather. The present had special value to her. Her grandpa spent most of his life making similar items in one of potteries in Northern England. _Who knows maybe he made this one as well?_ She dared herself to daydream as her finger traced a golden tail of a kite painted on white glass.

She was lost in her thought when the kitchen door opened and revealed a _wayfarer_ standing behind them. 'Sorry, I was looking for my room,' he said surprising her completely with his explanation. After a moment however she noticed luggage lying on the floor next to him and all pieces fell into place. He indeed was the person to take the last room in the flat she occupied in the university halls.

'The doors are numbered,' she blurted gesturing at the huge board of wood behind him. Nodding slightly, he approached the door and glanced at the silver number hanging on them with look of abashment on his face.

'Fair point-' He admitted and gave her a silly smile. 'I better go to my room. Sorry for bothering you.' He turned on his heels and hurriedly got himself to the exit.

Without thinking, she rose from her seat and followed him.

'Wait!' She called after him and reached her hand in his direction. 'I'm Clara and you must be-'

'John,' he cut her off as his hand folded around hers a little too tight for her liking. 'John Smith.'

'Nice to meet you then, John.' She curled her lips into a genuine smile. 'Why don't you unpack your stuff and meet me in the kitchen once you're done. I have tea and some biscuits,' she added trying to comfort sheepish flatmate a bit.

'Thank you,' he nodded and disappeared behind the door.

John entered the room and immediately locked himself in it.

Donna was right- he admitted as he put aside his luggage. The people with whom he was about to live were half his age. He knew it before, yet the predicament hadn't seemed to be that important until now. This Clara girl appeared to be nice. How much of it however was simple act of mercy bothered him a lot.

Without any hope in his heart, he fell on the bed and glanced at the ceiling above. He felt a deep urge to call his sister and ask to pick him up but decided to ignore it.

He had to make it through, somehow.

The next few months would likely be anything but fun, but for the sake of regaining his memories he needed to try. Besides he couldn't hide in Donna's house forever. She had her own life and family and definitely didn't need another burden now.

A bit more convinced to fight, he got himself up from the mattress and approached one of the suitcases lying on the floor. From a tiny pocket, he retrieved a package of mini apple pastries Lilah shared with him earlier. He took the box in his hands and tried to form his lips into anything that even slightly resembled a smile. Baby steps- he kept repeating to himself as he wandered down the corridor. For today, he needed to find one person familiar to him in the zoo they called a university.

Clara was still sitting in the kitchen and read a thick book with a smile on her face. 'May I come in?' He asked sheepishly seeing her preoccupied.

'Of course you can. Jasmin or honey and orange blossom?' She said pointing out on a cans of tea standing on one of the kitchen counters.

'Orange blossom sounds exotic,' he smiled back and handed her a package of cookies he kept in his hand.

She made the tea, passed him a red mug with hot beverage inside and gestured him to sit down. 'What you'll be studying then, John?' She asked him.

Carefully he placed the mug on the table, wrapped his fingers around the glass and inhaled a sweet aroma the tea leaves released. 'I wanted to do Microbiology but since I have a PhD in this area already, they wanted me to choose something else. I'll stick with Biochemistry this time,' he rasped from behind the mug, in spirit hoping she would let it go. 'What about yourself?'

'Master in History of Art,' she said without excitation. 'I've graduated in Literature already, so you're not the only comeback kid in the group. Do you know there was a Fresher Week?'

'I did it on purpose. I know I can't avoid it forever but I'm a little bit terrified. I can't wait to see reactions of other students when they see me,' John tried to chuckle but stopped when even he himself could spot nervousness in his words. 'I've done my degree here by the way. Class of 1986.'

'I was born in 1986,' Clara started but broke mid-sentence once she must have spotted terror on his face. She leant in over the kitchen table and gave his a friendly smile. 'No worries. Unis are not only for youngsters anymore. Besides, it's kinda cool you decided to come back. You know after PhD and stuff. Just try not to sabotage the lectures.' She winked at him.

A little laughter left his lips at the sound of her advice. 'I wouldn't dare.'

'Oh, I would love to see that,' she giggled too. 'Excuse me guys, but you have no idea what you're talking about. You would be a legend after something like this.'

It all seemed brand new but he had to say there was something about this girl of rather woman that he liked already. She seemed a bit too talkative, but her enthusiasm was definitely infectious. Maybe it was rushed, but he had a feeling she liked him too.

So it looked like he really made it today- he befriended the first person on the campus.


	3. Sep 6th 2015

'Uncle Johnny, this is the painting I told you about,' Lilah said proudly as she presented her masterpiece to the computer screen. After a brief moment however she was brutally drifted out of the picture by her older brother.

'Uncle John has better things to do than your stupid paintings,' her brother murmured as he made himself comfortable on the seat that was hers just seconds earlier. 'Are you watching the match tonight?' The boy asked him neatening out his hair and looking at himself in the webcam.

John couldn't help but laugh seeing their silly fights. They reminded him so much of lion cubs he watched the other day on National Geographic. Before long his niece as proudly as a peacock entered the room. 'Mummy says you can't watch telly for a week,' she told the boy grinning and took a seat on the arm of the sofa.

The boy froze and in hurry rose to his feet. 'Mum, she started it,' he cried out before he scuttled and disappeared completely from John's sight.

'Will you visit us on the weekend, Uncle?' The girl asked after a moment with serious expression on her face.

'Of course, I will. How can I miss your Mum's Sunday brunch,' he told her smiling. Hearing his reassurance one appeared on her tiny face as well.

'I have to go now-' She said looking over her shoulder. 'Mummy says I have to finish my homework first. Can you call later and tell me a bedtime story?'

'I will,' he comforted her before the call was ringed off.

John leant back on his chair and took few deep breaths, stretching himself. After a moment he came back to his previous position and taped few letters on a keyboard of his laptop. He visited few web portals trying to find anything important or entertaining but ultimately dropped it.

Instead, he logged on into his video on demand account and choose first proposition. Seeing it would take at least few minutes till he would be able to see it anyways, he headed to the kitchen to make himself a snack.

He just opened the door to the kitchen when he heard a loud scream coming from behind it. A screaming creature stood behind open fridge looking daggers at him. 'Who the hell are you?' the tall blonde spluttered.

'I'm John, I live here,' he tried to explain himself as the woman's hidden herself behind the door.

'Get out of here, you pervert! I'm in my underwear if you haven't noticed,' she cried out after a brief moment of silence.

Not knowing why exactly, he couldn't move even an inch just staring aimlessly at the woman. 'I'm profoundly sorry-' he finally choked up before he felt someone's hand on his arm pulling him backwards.

'He didn't know you were here,' he heard Clara's voice say calmly once he found himself back safe in the corridor. 'And I recommend wearing trousers when you're in shared rooms.'

'You know what is ridiculous? A man living in our flat. This is fucking ridiculous-'the woman said before she stormed out of the room, now not caring at all he could see her. 'I'm going to report it tonight. There's no way I'm going to leave it like this,' she blurted and banged the door to her bedroom after herself.

About twenty minutes later they all were in the office of the halls coordinator. The terrified official sat behind his enormous desk not sure why the woman in front of him shouted at him in the first place. Both John and Clara sat on the couch in the back of the office staring both at themselves and at the scene with utter confusion etched on their faces. The only person missing was Amy, Clara's friend who still hadn't finished her classes that day.

'I'm really sorry Miss Chase. We'll do everything in our power to solve this situation, but we don't have at our disposal any accommodation for this number of people,' the man tried to explain himself. 'I'm sure by the time this week is over, you'll have a brand new flat.'

'I don't want a new flat. We were first. Me, Clara and Amy. This man here-' she turned around and pointed shamelessly at John. 'He's the one who has to go.'

'I'm really sorry, but medical condition of Mr Smith doesn't allow as to relocate him,' the man said with trembling voice, likely afraid of another wave of screaming he was about to encounter.

Miss Archer however didn't plan to let it go at all. She rose from her seat and leant on the desk so that her and the official faces were on the same level. 'My family's supported this pile of bricks for over twenty years. You think how my Dad is going to respond if he hears about it?' She grunted before she moved out of the room.

'Everything is going to be fine,' Clara reassured John over the mug of coffee as they sat by one of the tables in the University's cafeteria. 'I had no clue she's such a bitch, though. She shouldn't treat you like this.'

John put his mug aside and looked at her. 'Maybe she's right and it's me who should move out?' he offered.

At the sound of his words Clara only shook her head. 'I met you today and her yesterday. It's no difference at all. And for the record if I'm to choose sides, I choose _you_. I'll do my best to convince Amy. Not that I think she'll have any doubts who to choose when she sees what this shagbag is doing.'

John looked around before he leant in on the table slightly. 'Can you please stop calling her names?' He asked his friend shyly. He was never a type finding comfort in verbal aggression, not to mention they were in public place.

'Another trait of John to write down then,' she smiled at him swigging her iced coffee. 'He doesn't like swearing.'


	4. Sep 10th 2015

Chapter 4

Clara hated Thursdays. They weren't hard – far from it. She had only three hours of lectures in total. The only problem was they were spread over the day so much she was bored to death.

In a four hour break between lecture 2 and 3, she decided to visit one of the cafes on the campus and reorganise her notes over a mug of fresh coffee with a drop or two of maple syrup. What she wasn't expecting to see on her way was John wandering, with confusion etched on his face, from one building to another.

Not thinking much, she called him and slowly started to move in his direction. 'How is my favourite human doing?' She asked when she found herself in the distance from which as she thought he would hear her without need of shouting every word.

'A bit embarrassed, I guess,' he said ruffling his mop of hair. 'I can't find the building and the lecture is in twenty minutes,' he said visibly troubled and ashamed in the same time.

'Tried to ask anyone?' she chuckled.

'No, have been just wandering about,' he said sarcastically. 'I asked like ten people and they all told me to use Wi-Fi. Can you believe that?' He asked her shaking his head slightly. The thought crossed her mind, he might not know how to use the Internet in the first place, but she pushed that thoughts aside. Even her grandma could, why wouldn't he then?

'But luckily you found me,' she smiled. 'So how is the building called?'

John retrieved a sheet of paper from the pocket of his coat and straightened it out in his hands. Not knowing why exactly, she could feel her heart pricked when she spotted a wedding ring on his finger. 'It's in Ehrlich-Metchnikoff building, wherever it is? John's words brought her back to reality.

'Bad news then. Ehrlich-Metchnikoff building is on new campus nearby the hospital. It's like half an hour walk, so you won't make it, I'm afraid. Although, I can show you the way so you won't miss it again,' she said lightly, still recovering from the vision of the ring on his finger.

'It's on essay writing. Not like I don't know how to do already,' he pointed out not sorry about not being able to attend at all. 'Can I get you a coffee and a cake in exchange? Bet you have better things to do than being a tour guide,' he asked with a hope in his pale blue eyes and took a heavy pile of books she held in her hands.

'Coffee will do,' she said, smiling.

They decided on the café located more or less in the middle of the way between one campus and the other. Thanks to the distance, the place was much cosier and quieter than any choices they had on either of campuses.

'How is your week going so far?' Clara asked when John came back to the table with their orders – two mugs of mocha and entire carrot cake he generously bought for her.

'Good, I think. A lot has changed since I was here last time, but it's all for good as I believe,' he answered kindly and took a seat by the opposite edge of the table. 'How is yours?'

She took a sip of the coffee and put it back on the table. 'I have to choose the topic of my project in next two weeks. I have one I like in particular, but I'm not sure they'll give it to me,' she sighed. It was indeed huge problem. History of Art wasn't her strongest subject and having a project she wasn't certain of would only make it harder to cover her flaw.

'I'm sure you'll get it,' he reassured her with a genuine smile on his face. 'My wife is an Archaeologist,' he started out of the blue. 'Or rather was.'

The last words rung in her ears. Was- so maybe he wasn't taken after all.

'Sorry it's just so new to me. I could tell you but I don't think you would believe me,' he rasped.

She raised the mug from the table and took another sip. 'I promise I'll stay open minded,' she offered.

'We divorced four years ago, but not for me. Five months ago, I had a car accident. I woke up after weeks in coma and I don't recall anything that happened beyond year 3 of my studies. My therapist wanted me to come back here since it's the last thing I remember. The University was really helpful. They even gave me the same room I occupied then. Yet it doesn't help at all. Because I'm not sure I want _this_ to be my future. To her we broke up ages ago, yet for me she's still a student _here,_ ' he whispered out and looked around the room. 'I remember this place. We used to come here quite often.'

'Is that why you came back here? To get her back?' Clara asked with a note of compassion in her voice and he nodded.

They finished their coffees in silence and before long left the empty café and started to head to the Ehrlich-Metchnikoff building. Frankly, she had no idea how to speak to him. What to tell to someone whose life had just been turned upside down. He also didn't seem to be eager to talk about it in the first place.

About ten minutes later, their destination arose before their eyes. 'So this is this Ehrlich-Metchnikoff building?' John took a good glance at the ugly concrete building as they sat on a bench in front of it.

'Officially the weirdest building in the entire county,' Clara said smiling. 'Do you love her still,' she asked him and froze surprised with her own cheekiness. John however didn't seem to mind it at all. Instead, he looked at her and nodded sadly.

'My sister claims our last years together were terrible. She thinks I'll understand it once my memories come back. Only I don't think I can ever stop loving her,' he gasped staring at the empty space.

'Did you try to contact her?' Clara continued and he nodded again.

'No, my sister informed her about everything and it still looks like she doesn't want to have anything to do with me,' he whispered out glancing at her sadly. 'I'm really sorry. You were supposed to show me the way here and not listen to my whining.'

She was about to say she didn't mind his moment of honesty at all, but was cut off by the sound of horde leaving the building now as the lecture ended. In silence, they slowly made for the other campus. There was no rush to make it to her last lecture that day however. It faded away that moment when she realised the heart of the man in front of her was already taken. A well-known pain of rejection pierced her own and made her long for one thing –the retreat of her room.


	5. Sep 13th 2015

_**Chapter 5**_

'Seth put some effort into this. Or should I sign you up for ballet classes?' Donna cried out from her sunbed as she watched John and Seth master penalty kicks.

'His legs are too weak for ballet,' the boy's younger sister shouted out before she knocked the ball out from beneath of his foot and shot the goal moments later. 'And who's crying now, girls?' She stopped in front of John and told him grinning from ear to ear.

Seconds later, John left the goal and picked her up from the ground. 'What did you call me?' He asked tickling the girl's belly.

'Dinner is almost ready,' Donna informed them before she headed to the house to deal with a roast beef and veggies she prepared for today.

He decided not to wait till the situation gets out of control and gestured the kids to gather their scattered toys. While Seth didn't object at all, his sister pretended to be deaf to her uncle calls and kept circling around a huge oak on her pink bike.

Sighing heavily, he left the patio and moved to the stubborn five year old. 'You can't leave your dolls outside, Lil. They'll get wet and mouldy and Mummy will have to throw them away,' he said with a serious expression on his face.

'Dad can buy me new ones,' she told him and was about to drive away when his hand blocked the front wheel of her tiny bike.

'He won't if I tell him what you did to the ones you have already. Now, be a good girl and help Seth, alright?' He tried to reason with her. Without a word of protest, the girl left the bike and begun to lumber in direction of an overturn doll buggy left by a shrub of peonies.

Before long the garden started to be a bit more pleasant. 'Will you visit us next week, Uncle?' Seth asked as he stopped in front of John pointing out on a shin guards he didn't yet know how to take off.

Without a word, John kneeled down beside him and started to undo colourful burrs keeping the boy's skin and pieces of plastic together. 'I guess so. Why you ask?'

'The other day when Mum was taking a bath auntie River called and wanted to speak to you. I promised I would tell her if you show up,' the boy said whispering, 'don't tell Mum, okay? I'm not allowed to pick up the phone myself yet.'

John got himself up and ruffled the boy's blonde hair. 'No worries, she won't find out,' he said before he started to move in direction of the house.

Donna was cutting the meat and didn't bother to pay any attention to him when he entered the kitchen.

'Seth said River called this week,' he blurted leaning back on the doorframe. 'Did you know she wants to speak to me?'

At the sound of his words, Donna put the knife aside and crossed her arms staring at him with a combination of anger and desperation. 'I know, she called few times before. Likely hoped one of the kids would eventually answer.'

He couldn't hold back a grunting when he heard her so impenitently admitting to keeping him away from the love of his life. 'Why haven't you told me?' He rasped.

'Because I'm responsible for you,' she shouted before he managed to say everything he wanted. 'Until you don't have your memories back, you must rely on us on your judgments. This relationship wasn't good for you.'

'It wasn't, yet she still cares about me,' he chuckled, rubbing gently his forehead. 'I want to call her. And I'm going to do it now, no matter if you approve it or not.'

With tears in her eyes, Donna approached one of the cupboards, took from it a yellow piece of paper and passed it to him. 'Just don't say I didn't warn you,' she said with trembling voice.

Without a word, John turned on his feet and left the kitchen heading to his bedroom on the first floor. Once inside, he sat at the edge of the bed, retrieved a mobile from the pocket of his trousers and typed the numbers written on the page Donna had given him.

Before long someone by the other side answered.

'It's me,' he said with breaking voice once he was certain it was River he was speaking with.

For a moment, she didn't say anything. The only noises coming from her side being a noise of person moving across the room from one place to another.

'Hi, John,' she finally answered. 'I wanted to know if you're alright.'

'I am-'he said laughing slightly. He couldn't believe he was really speaking to her. Just minutes earlier he was sure it was just a boring Sunday afternoon and now she was on the phone, ready to give them another chance. 'I'm at Donna's. Do you wanna meet or something?' He asked hopefully.

Once again, the phone went silent for a moment.

'John,' she panted after a long while. 'I know it's hard for you but we broke up almost five years ago. I would love to start again but it's too late for us even if you can't see it clearly as I do,' she explained to him as to a child. 'You will though, I really believe you would. And then you'll be glad I said no today.'

The time seemed to stop as he listened to her voice. His hope to ever see her again vanished with her every word. 'What if I don't?' He asked.

'You will, I promise. Now if you excuse me, I have to go. The entire auditorium is waiting for me. Take care, John!' she said before the connection broke.

John put the cell phone aside and fell on the bed. He stared at the ceiling and pondered. Everything made his want to scream, to curse the day in which he had got into that freaking car. He couldn't bear condescension of people around him anymore. They treated him like a child, ignoring his needs and telling him how to feel. If they paid better attention, they would know he had never felt this alone in his entire life.


	6. Sep 14th 2015

It was a lazy Monday evening. John had finished already his classes for that day and enjoyed the pleasant silence of his room in the University halls.

He was in the middle of an important mission in the computer game his nephew had showed him the other day when, he noticed a loud knock on the doors.

Slowly, he hung the gamer headphones on the backrest of the chair and rose from his seat.

He couldn't help but grin when he spotted Clara standing outside. "Did I interrupt something?" she asked him shyly.

"No, I have been practicing hexakills. Nothing that can't wait. Is everything alright?" he smiled at her.

"It depends. I don't know how I'm going to pay you back but I need your help, " she said. "Amy was supposed to go with me to my friend's concert, but her boyfriend switched his shifts and they're having a date tonight. Please don't make me go alone. I promise, I'll do anything. Just come there with me."

John took a deep breath and didn't answer instantly. He was more than flattered that a woman like Clara even considered him, yet he wasn't sure her friends would be as kind as she was. He wasn't one of them anymore. "I know what the silence means. Please, agree," she added.

He looked her in the eyes and saw nothing but hope and sadness. Maybe he really should go there with her? "When does the concert start?" he asked.

"At eight, but I already booked a taxi so you don't need to worry about anything," she replied, grinning vastly. She had it planned all along.

"Don't know how you're going to pay me back," he chuckled lightly as he watched her disappear behind the door of her room.

John closed his door and approached the wardrobe. He reached for the handle and he stood before complete collection of clothing John Smith owned. There was a lot to choose from, yet he couldn't find anything suitable for tonight. In good taste, but still casual and neutral.

Finally, he noticed a lonely black shirt and decided to try it.

It wasn't bad, far from it. Soft, thin fabric lied perfectly on him, masking all flaws of his not-young-anymore body and exposing everything he could be still proud of.

He looked at his own reflection in the mirror for a long while and smiled to himself. It wasn't as bad as it first seemed. His new body simply needed more effort.

After a long moment, he took a tin of hair gel and a comb from his desk and brushed his naughty curls few times. They still lacked any consistency, but at least it looked like a desired effect.

Eventually it was half past seven, he left the room and knocked on the door across the hall. It didn't take long before Clara opened it, revealing to him the outfit she chose for tonight.

She was gorgeous. She was always pretty and cute but until now he has never seen the mature part of her. It was clearly visible, now when she was in a dress in the colour of red wine matching perfectly redness of her lips and high heels. "You look nice," he tried to complement, but the gasp escaping him as he has done it only made him feel ashamed.

"So do you," she answered, closing the doors after herself. "There's an after party, but we can go back straight after the concert," she offered.

"I'm not starting classes before one in the afternoon tomorrow, so there is no rush," he said while they were leaving the flat, his hand always holding the doors for her as he tried to show some good manners.

"I haven't seen you the entire weekend," she pointed out when they entered the taxi and he nodded.

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if I'll visit my sister until the very last moment," he whined but his concern wasn't real. He was glad she noticed his absence. It meant she was seeking him.

"How was your weekend then?" she asked kindly, smiling at him as if she tried to reassure him there was nothing to worry about.

"It was good, until I found out she was in touch with my wife and was never to tell me," he said and she shook her head.

"I don't have a sibling, so maybe I'm wrong but I doubt she would do anything to hurt you," she tried to explain a woman she didn't even know.

Maybe she was right? Maybe Donna really tried to protect him from something, or at least she thought it was the case?

"It doesn't matter. The point is she still doesn't want to talk to me. To her we're done. I've known her since I was fifteen. We were couple ever since. And now she says it's over," he blurted. "It looks like I'm a single again."

He hated to admit it but it really started to look like he had lost that battle. What else could he do to convince her to change her mind? All that left was waiting for a miracle to happen.

"Wanna start a club or something? I'm a single too," he heard Clara joke from the seat next to his.

"The difference is you're still young. There is a life ahead of you. Future to look forward to. People like me don't have that privilege. We keep everything in our arms afraid it will disappear if we loosen our grip," he said with great pathos. "There is only River for me."

"Don't act like a hundred year old. For the record, my dad was older from you when he started dating his second wife. Less complaining, more action, John," she replied as the car halted before the club in which the concert was to take place.

Before he had a chance to answer, she handed in the driver few notes and left the car.

He stayed in his seat for a bit longer, baffled and utterly confused by her suggestion. Could he really forget about River and move on?


	7. Sep 14th 2015 b

The concert had already started when Clara and John arrived. Quietly they went down to the cellar where the stage was, and took a seat by the bar table.

"Can I get you something?" She noticed John gesture at the long row of bottles ahead of them.

"No way. It's me who invited you," she told him firmly, but he only smiled at her.

"A beer for me. And what would you recommend for this lovely lady?" he asked the barmaid who with a grin on her face passed him his pint.

He was quite a charmer, she had to admit. Not that she was in any form interested in him. She simply pointed out the obvious.

Without her approval, John bought her a fancy drink, which as the girl behind the bar stated contained vodka and watermelon juice and some others secret ingredients.

It was nice.

Everything was nice that evening, it even made her long again for the time in her life when she could afford things like this. Adulthood was anything but fun.

The music her best friend played now differed greatly from the one she remembered. It didn't remind her of dying octopus anymore. It was more modest and organised, if not sophisticated.

She felt the goose-bumps on her neck as they started a song about a chance meeting in a bar. She likely wasn't the only one, she noticed when John leant in and whispered _They're good!_ to her ear.

"Fair point," she replied and begun her sixth drink that evening. She didn't intend to leave the club drunk. Sweet taste of the drinks made them hard to drop though.

"Wanna dance?" he asked her out of the blue, his mischievous stare fixed on hers as he did so.

"We're on the concert and nobody dances," she said. She never liked this kind of folks. People who don't behave appropriately to the situation. The club was tightly packed with the crowd and he was in mood for dancing.

"Well, I don't care. You wanted me to take it easy, so help me," he was adamant with his arms stretched out in inviting gesture. Sighing heavily, she rose from her seat and let him guide them closer to the stage.

To her terror, they changed the music to a slow, romantic tune. One that usually make couples cling to each other and singles storm out of the dance floor. John didn't mind it in slightest. He took her hand in his and took the lead. Suddenly all eyes in the room were fixed on them. How could they be not be when they just found a free entertainment?

She thought she would not like it - the sensation of his body so close to hers, his hot breath on the skin of her neck, but she did. It was very pleasant, combined with the alcohol which slowly started to take its toll on her. Drinking in his company was definitely a wrong idea, she concluded.

"You're not that bad at all," he said when the music subsided for a moment. His hand was still placed gently on her waist and kept her close to him.

"I didn't say I couldn't dance," she answered, smiling. "Have you managed to forget about you-know-who for a moment?" she added and instantly bit her tongue. It wasn't wise, mentioning his most sensitive spot like this.

To her surprise, he didn't seem to be offended. "Sort of," he mumbled instead. "Thanks for dragging me here, it's really great."

She was quite surprised when after the concert he agreed to attend the after party. He was the oldest person in the room, yet he didn't seem to be intimidated by that fact at all. He spoke to her friends, laughed at their jokes. Well, for most of the time it was him who joked but it didn't change the fact he blended in rather nicely.

She swore she left him only for a moment. She needed to go to the roof, find a place from which she could easily call Amy. Cold autumn air was anything but pleasant but she had to stand it, the place was the only one that was relatively quiet.

She couldn't believe her eyes when she went downstairs and noticed John, sitting among her friends in front of the telly with brownie in his hand and silly grin on his face. "Tell me you didn't eat them?" she cried out. It was more a hope than a question. His glassy eyes told her the truth straight away.

"Más despacio. ¿Cómo estás? I only ate four or five. They're really weird, Clara, " he gasped and returned to watching an episode of Noddy.

Without a word, she pulled him by his hand and guided him out of the room. "We're going home and for god's sake don't take food from strangers."

They were about to leave, or rather she was. He stood aimlessly supported on the wall and laughed at her while she did her best to help him with his jacket. "What's wrong?" she heard her friend and the owner of the flat call after them.

"Willie stoned John. I'm taking him home," she replied and begun to do the buttons of her coat.

"Do you want me to get you taxi?" her friend answered, rubbing his mop of hair gently.

"Little walk will do him good. Besides it's only fifteen minute walk. Thanks for asking, Connor." The man nodded and let her open the front door, John slowly followed her.

They didn't walk even five houses before John spoke again, claiming he was hungry. She ignored his plea at first, but he was cleverer than this, sat on the concrete stairs of one of the houses and insisted he wouldn't go anywhere else but a bar. He became even more specific, ordering her to look for fish and chips.

So there she was, seeking for fast food ten minutes to midnight.

"Happy?" she asked him as they sat by the table in McDonald's, the only restaurant in the neighbourhood open in the middle of the night. He didn't say anything but by the way he loaded chips into his mouth she could tell he was.

"More than happy. I'm in heaven," he said after a while and passed her the plate with chips.

She dug one of them in the ketchup and put it in her mouth. "How so?" she asked him.

"I see the light," he answered and began to guffaw again. His jokes officially remained understandable to no one else but him. "River would be glad to hear that. Oh, she hates me. She really, properly hates me," he added after a moment.

She was about to ask him why he thought so, but he was first. "She was always like this. Always independent. Always on her own. That's what being an orphan does to people. I was just a moron following her. Hoping I can save her. Change her into a woman I want her to become. If I met someone like you back then all would be different. But I dreamed about white whale and here I am instead."

"As granddad always said. Anything can happen when you're both still alive," she replied but it looked like he didn't want her comfort. He just shook his head with disgust etched on his face.

"Screw her and others like her. I needed someone made of flesh and blood. A real person to talk to. If only you we born twenty years earlier. We would get married, built a house and maybe even bring onto this world our own basketball team. It would be perfect. If only fate was kinder."

He was about to say something else but the taxi in front of the building stopped him. Silently, they rose from their seats and left the building, letting the cold night air cool him down a little.


	8. Sep 15th 2015

It was late morning when John finally found enough courage to open his eyes. He has never felt worse than this. His brain was almost exploding and that and he felt the last week's menu on his tongue. If anyone asked him, this was his vision of hell.

Slowly, he rose from the bed and started to look for some proper clothes. It was half past eleven, so he had less than an hour to get ready for the day.

It hadn't taken long before he noticed how different his current body was. Decades earlier, he would not even feel the alcohol he poured into himself the previous night. It wasn't the case anymore. He was dying for few pills of paracetamol and a hot coffee. His head pulsated painfully each time he tried to kneel. Not to mention the nausea.

There was no chance he was going to make it today. Well, he could try but would he really want to be remembered as a weirdo who puked in the lecture theatre? If he knew one thing about the youth it was their ability to spot other's flaws. Not to mention, in his current situation he had more than enough reason to become their target already. The only realistic option was to take a shower, eat a round of toast or two and look at the files the lecturer provided online.

He put on some fresh clothing. Nothing extravagant, just a pair of plaid trousers and a black t-shirt and left the room.

He wasn't the only one still in the flat, he noticed when he entered the kitchen. Clara was there, reading a newspaper over a mug of coffee. "Hello sunshine, slept well?" she giggled once she spotted him. Her playful gaze made him want to disappear.

For a moment, he remained quiet. Memories of the last night were slowly coming back to him and added some redness to his cheeks. He could swear how long he wished he wasn't like this, but would she believe him when she had seen him drunk and hitting on her? Well, technically he wasn't. He almost nudged her to marry him.

"Fancy a mug of coffee?" she said, and passed him the second paper cup before he managed to form any coherent answer. She bought him coffee. Without anybody asking, she went to a cafe and grabbed one for him as well.

She was the biggest surprise of this University. Her kindness overwhelmed him at times, but was also waking up some sort of warmth deep within his core. "Don't be so hard on yourself, everyone behaves differently after weed. That's why they smoke it in the first place," she added with a beautiful look of contenment on her face.

He sighed heavily and took the cup from her, inhaled for a moment its rich aroma until it made him feel sick again. "I didn't plan, that's the problem. It turns out I'm too old to play."

"Well, if I'm being honest Willie is a bit old for it too. I finished studies, moved to London and started a career. He still lives with his mum. And the last night. It screams he has some responsibility issues to me. It's quite terrifying, isn't it? We all start in the same place. Some of us do a lot, other quit before they even start."

"He seems like a nice guy. Definitely clever and with plenty of potential. Pity he let it go," he answered and smiled back at her.

"It's really pity. And he was about to study Law as far as I recall," she admitted sadly. Her care seemed to be a genuine one. She was truly amazing, he noticed more and more every time they met. And somehow she still wished to talk to him. Not many women would after what he had done last night.

"Last evening - I would like to make it up to you. Is there anything I can do? A dull homework or the laundry? Just name it and it's yours," he offered lightly.

"It's fine John. It really is. Although, if you badly need something to do I've noticed you have a car with you," she replied, grinning and he nodded.

He indeed had. His driving licence was returned to him so he could finally drive his blue Corvette again. If only Donna panicked less. He had an accident, but the neurologist was optimist so why shouldn't he?

"Well since I don't have one, we could go grocery shopping together sometimes. Like today for instance. I don't think any of us is in state for learning," she added.

"Well played, Miss Clara," he chuckled. A relief was easy to spot in his voice. He still didn't scare her off it really seemed. "Can you give me an hour or two to get ready?"

"You look like you may use at least five. No worries, I can wait," she chuckled and he laughed with her.

They stayed in the flat until the late afternoon. She wasn't particularly interested in going earlier and he didn't protest. He was far from complaining, simply tried to somehow survive the day. He sort of found a way, with his head under a pillow and curtains in the room shut.

"How was your day?" he started the conversation as the car stood in a mile-long row. They were coming back. The trunk of the car was now filled up with new purchases. He lost entire interest in life. The supermarket didn't disappear at the horizon yet, but it was still enough to squeeze them in the traffic.

"Good, I guess. I've repeated everything for the tutorial tomorrow, done the laundry and sent my dad an email. It's good to be ahead with everything. How about you?" she replied and passed him a package of jellies. He rejected them lightly. Their sweet odour alone made his stomach clench again.

"You could have told me you had a laundry to do. I would have helped," he whined after a while and she giggled.

"You're sweet but no one except for me touches my underwear," she said merrily and stuffed her mouth with another candy rainbow, leaving on the seat crystals of citric acid falling from it.

"Not even Mr. Clara?" he asked bluntly.

"There is no Mr. Clara," she answered. Her tone changed, more serious, almost sad. "My boyfriend was hit by a car two years ago. It's kinda hard to move on after something like that."

The story didn't match the woman he had before him at all. She was so full of life, so optimistic if not a bit naive. How did she manage to preserve her idealism under the wave of sadness and unfairness pouring onto her? Tragedies like this change people after all. "I'm so sorry-" he started but she shushed him immediately.

"Please don't. Anything but pity. I dumped my old life to avoid slobbering," she said firmly and her words only astonished him further. "If you want to talk about him fine. But please don't treat me differently because of what happened."

"Can you promise to do the same? Don't stick with me just because I'm broken," he asked. His eyes focused once more at the road as the crowd started to move again. Still he could say she smiled back at him. Her grin was sincere but also well-considered.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, John. I don't have to pretend I like you. I really do," she replied.


	9. Sep 17th 2015

''How did you like today's workshop?" Amy asked Clara as they were leaving one of the buildings of the old campus. It was a lovely autumn afternoon. The sun was shining. Its light incited on old sandstone buildings and colourful trees. They walked slowly, dragging with them huge briefcases.

Giggling lightly, Clara showed her fingers, the skin behind her nails was all grimy from charcoal. "It will take at least a week before they're clean again but I had a wonderful time. And according to our handsome tutor my still life was the best," she chuckled along with Amy.

It was indeed nice. She had been a little suspicious when Amy insisted on joining the class, but now she was slowly accepting she might have been right. Maybe she even needed it? A way to express negative emotions her soul harbored for so long. And the grade from the course was based only on the attendance. What more could she potentially want?

"Did you know?" Amy mumbled after a while and Clara shook her head. "Liar!" her friend added seeing her poor attempt to lie.

"It doesn't matter. You're getting married. How amazing is that?" Clara smiled and Amy finally let it go. Even showed her a ring on her finger. It looked amazing on her long, slim digit. Apparently, she helped Rory to choose the right one.

"On a scale one to ten, I give it fifteen." Amy sighed heavily.

"Hope he got everything right. We were practicing for a week," Clara laughed.

"He was a bit stiff, yes. Still it was perfect. You're going to be my maid of honour, aren't you?" her friend asked and Clara nodded.

"Of course I am," she almost cried out.

"I don't feel like going through it myself. Cake, dress, even invitations. It's going to take ages."

"No it won't. You have me. We're going to make this party rock. No worries," she replied.

Amy laughed with her but after a moment the joy on her face disappeared. She became more serious, sad even. "It's so weird though. Just like yesterday we were planning yours," she said bluntly and Clara intuitively snorted.

"Please, don't even start. You've got engaged. It's a reason to be happy," she reprimanded her friend but knew way too well it wouldn't be enough. It was never enough.

Amy was her friend. A real friend. A kind which doesn't leave you when something bad happens. The type that decides to enroll the University with you just to make sure you are really fine. She was glad she had someone like this in her life. It was what made her want to wake up in the morning. It was what gave it meaning.

"Yes, but isn't it going to bring back memories?" Amy continued.

"No it won't. I'm fine," she said firmly. "It happened and can't be undone. I understand that and I accept that."

"It sounds like a sentence from a psychology book."

"Well, maybe I'm simply very clever." She chuckled.

"Right. Let sleeping dogs lie. Now we need to take care of John. First, he's going to take you to our wedding and then we will see," her friend said, pretending seriousness.

"I don't think he would come," Clara admitted sadly.

"I'm the bride," Amy said very slowly. "He can't say no to me."

It was half past two in the morning. The classes were supposed to start in a few hours. She did her best to fall asleep, yet sleep didn't want to come. Aimlessly she was turning from one side of the bed to the other. Every time she was close to sleep, conversation she had with Amy was coming back.

She tried to be happy for Amy and Rory, but she couldn't. No matter how much she tried to be it turned out to be impossible. She simply couldn't. Not after everything that happened.

Sometime ago, she had been exactly where they were today. She had been in heaven, fooling herself things could remain that way forever. Like if the bad things could happen but not to her. Like if she had a special place under the sun, far away from premonitions and twists of fate.

Time had proved her wrong. It had destroyed everything she managed to build, took it in its evergreen hand and pulverized it, until she was left with nothing but tears. Today she was reminded about it all over again.

Slowly, she approached the wardrobe and took from it a piece of clothing. It was an old, black t-shirt with a human skull printed at the front. It wasn't any t-shirt.

It was _his_ t-shirt. The one he had cherished most while she hated and which now meant everything to her. It was funny how perception change when one needs to face the loss. Grief has an amazing capability of deforming and bending things. Makes one things sadder and gives value to others. Changes them so much that you can't say how they looked like at the beginning.

It happened to her too.

With the t-shirt in her hand, she went back to the bed. In the complete darkness she laid. Her hands closed around the t-shirt. She brought it close to her face, buried herself in its fabric and breathed in the sweet scent that was still present on it. Sandalwood and cinnamon and a musky smell of his body.

 _For a moment she was miles away, in the kitchen in one of the houses at London's suburbia. She drank a mug of warm milk and glanced over the kitchen window at the world sinking in the dim light of the moon._

" _Couldn't you sleep?" she heard his concern voice say. She turned around and saw him. He was in the t-shirt. His best smile on his lips._

 _Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her and then guided her to their bedroom. She lay with her head on his chest and listened to his steady breaths until they made her drift off._

Somehow he was back with her, soothed her to sleep that last time. And she noticed once again, she was missing him to death.


End file.
